Weapons
by rwbyfics
Summary: The members of Team RWBY are all secret weapon dorks.


**A/N: A request from an anon on Tumblr! Send me a message if you want a specific pairing. I write for any pairings. Enjoy!**

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In the inner mechanisms of the well-oiled machine that was Team RWBY, their leader and youngest member was known as the weapons dork. She constantly swooned and fawned over Crescent Rose, which struck fear in the hearts of challengers who were required to fight against her for a grade. The massive scythe was a force to be reckoned with, and the sharp blade that curved into a half moon was beautifully forged, all from the hands of petite, enthusiastic Ruby.

But all three other members, who were two years older and held themselves to a higher standard, refused to acknowledge the beauty in weapons alongside Ruby.

Ruby adored her personal weapon, and with it, she had won many a battle. The black trimmings on the transformable contraption matched her hair, and the red drew similarities of the color that tipped her short, messily cut locks. Yang had chided her every weekend to stop wiping down her implement and go out to get wasted with her and Blake, but she declined with a shake of the head and went back with her soft cloth to attend to her precious and lethal weapon. In an encounter with the Grimm, she struck her scythe into the ground, creating ripples around the area, and felt power surge through her veins. Her semblance was easier to channel when she had her lovely item of destruction in her hands, and she whipped around at lightning speed, chopping off heads and arms of black-coated beasts.

In the gun form, she loved the recoil, almost craved it, and when she aimed, the bullets that left the barrel and pierced her targets pushed her to chop and hack and slice and shoot until nothing was left. She worked herself weary during training with her team, but seeing her work of art put to use refueled her energy every day.

Weiss, on the other hand, concealed her love for Myrtenaster with a fervent passion. The rapier made her feel regal, and the glyphs that appeared beneath her feet released built up stress and anger that welled up in the pit of her stomach. She would lash and parry and strike until her Aura ran low, but even then, just thinking of the beauty she created with her sword made her determined. She desperately wanted to create lovely things from her weapon; to make sure the last thing her enemies saw were glyphs of kaleidoscopic colors and Dust flurrying around. The Dust chambers that she took time to clean out every night sparkled and awaited to be filled in their according colors. Hearing the clicks of the barrels as they set into place was music to her ears.

Blake was stony in her battles, and it seemed like she didn't care about anything at all. But Gambol Shroud had been her protector when she was a confused little girl, and ever since she had acquired it, she felt an attachment and closeness, that she wanted it to be her primary and only equipment. When she was attacked and put under trials because of her Faunus heritage, she fought back with all her might, transforming Gambol Shroud from one form to another. Like her weapon, she changed and converted into the strong young woman she was today.

When she was small and defenseless, she trained herself with grueling hours, and ended a fight against Grimm quickly and easily. This small, felid child would stand in a clearing, her cleaver and katana covered in blood, tears streaming down her cheeks. She grew up to the seventeen year old she was today, and swore she would never cry in a fight again. Gambol Shroud was her friend, and she would never let it leave her side.

Yang loved her shot gauntlets, and wore them everywhere as bangles. The force and power that pulsed through her veins was addictive. She couldn't help smiling in a fight; it was a wonderful feeling to be powerful. When she punched with all of her strength, she loved the sound of metal-cloaked fists connecting with skin, and the beats and bruises she earned during her encounters were like medals. She wore them with pride and happiness. Her gauntlets were her prized possessions that would be cleaned and oiled every night before bed. They rested on her desk, and the first thing she did every morning was slipping them onto her wrists. There was a lovely thought that she could punch out a giant Ursa with just her fists, and she chose to flaunt that.

The members of Team RWBY were all nerds for weapons, and it was going to be Ruby's job to pull some of the dorkiness out of them. It was going to be her new life mission.


End file.
